


Alana Beck - Before

by NotaGoodUserName



Series: Before the Connor Project [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, Before the Connor Project, Character Study, Depression, I suppose, Mindset of Not Fitting In or Being Enough, Thoughts of Suicide, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 01:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17819048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotaGoodUserName/pseuds/NotaGoodUserName
Summary: Before the Connor Project.Everyone comes from somewhere. Everyone has a back story. Alana is no different.





	Alana Beck - Before

**Author's Note:**

> A short drabble of this cutie. I don't write too much of her, and I'm aware this doesn't sound like her at all. This is really just me speculating and deciding her backstory. A glimpse at who she was, why she is who she is today. A peek at my explanation for her, my view of her. And a shitton of angst, so nothing new!
> 
> It gets really heavy on the mindset of someone trying to find the right medication for their depression. I talk about it in the end notes because I don't want to keep you more than I need to.
> 
> Anyway! I don't write Alana enough so I thought I'd give it a go. Alana is going through some pretty tough stuff here, so brace yourself for stuff you saw in the tags. 
> 
> Without further ado, I present to you the shortest thing I've written in a long time.

She stares in the mirror, at the reflection that shows so many flaws and hateful remarks shouted in the halls. The words that weren’t directed at her, the ones that were. They echo in her mind, as if her mind wasn’t already full of those thoughts. It’s overcrowded in there. There’s no room for more but they keep coming back, and they keep screaming and shouting things she knows, things she has known for a while.

She isn’t depressed. Not really. Being depressed is an over exaggerated sad, a feeling of heavy burdens crushing your shoulders and breaking your bones, leaving you helpless to the anxiety that creeps just around the corner. She isn’t heavy with burdens, her bones don’t break under the pressure. She sits, though, and she watches the mask melt off her face to show a girl who is exhausted. All the time. And she is tired of being tired.

_These meds aren’t working_ , she thinks. _I’m tired all the time. I am sick all the time. My therapist gave me the wrong medicine._

Her hair sat in messy curls on her shoulders, long and dark. Nearly reaching her bottom. Many people are envious of her at first glance. Everyone here pulls at it, yanks and grins at her startled reaction. It’s why she wears it up.

For a moment, she wonders if she should cut it. Chop it all off. Numb hands search in the drawers of the sink for something sharp. Her hand brushes over a pair of scissors, and she grasps them, studying them for a moment. Dull, overused. Purple handle. She loves purple.

Her eyes were dull, she felt as lifeless as they looked. Eyes are windows to the soul. Is her soul as lifeless as the body it possesses? Is she the shell of a parasite that leeches the life out of every young teen like herself? 

Her stomach, as small as can be, turns with the ever growing nausea that made its home there. A side effect of the medicine. An everlasting turning of her stomach. Forever ongoing anxiety. Twisting, knotting. She feels sick.

_My meds don’t work_ , she thinks again, looking at the scissors in her hand. They give her a questioning look. _She gave me the wrong meds._

Her other hand traces up to her chest, resting above her heart. She closes her eyes and feels it thud gently. It never feels right to her. It feels awkward and off paced. It feels small and insignificant. 

_Who would miss me if I was gone_ , she thought, casually. _Why does my heart beat when I am unloved by people I loved so?_

Her eyes slowly open, and she stares at herself. No one will miss her. No one will care if she left. She is small and insignificant. A victim to the parasite.

_I want to die._

And just like that, reality crushes her. An icy cold feeling of dread and fear and the thought run overcame her crushing desire to just leave, to die, to be less of a burden. It makes her drop the scissors on the floor and she gasps brokenly and- she can feel it, her heart beat stuttered, faltered, it was uneven and broken, just like her breathing, just like her.

She flung herself at the door and out of the bathroom- and right into the chest of her father as he came to knock on the door.

“Daddy I'm scared,” she sobs into his chest. “I don’t want to die but I want to die. I want to die, Dad- daddy please-”

She was shaking, if she shook anymore, she will shake away into pieces, like leaves coming off a tree from a strong breeze, a breeze that can topple her over- but then she was enveloped in warm, strong arms and kept her close, kept her safe. She can feel his heart under her ear, and she wails at how normal it was. She wanted to be like him. Strong and steady. Not this weak, fragile girl who can’t do anything right, can’t be a good friend. She can’t be like this, but she can’t die. 

“I don’t want to die.”

He whispers in her ear, holding her tight and repeating one phrase. 

_“I’ve got you.”_

And for the first time in a while, Alana let herself believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> I... I know little to nothing about medication options for treating depression/anxiety/etc., but I know enough to know that the first one isn't always the one that works. It takes a while to find the right one that fits. 
> 
> This isn't the best view on what happens and I hope to God you don't take this the wrong way. Like I said I know next to nothing about treating mental illnesses but I do know that this is a part of the process for some people. I don't want to scare you out of getting help if you need it.
> 
> If I got something wrong or if this seems inaccurate please let me know. I'll see if I can go back and fix it.


End file.
